Family Ties
by fragrantpharaoh
Summary: Huroro is Kululu's drunken, abusive father. He had bittersweet feelings to be rid of his son when Kululu left home at fifteen. When he comes back over a decade later, Huroro isn't exactly pleased to see him. Kululu feels undiluted hate towards his father, but what exactly does Huroro feel about his son? (*It is very important that you read the fanfiction 'Corporal' first*)
1. Part 1

**Hello, friends! This is not exactly a new _story,_ per se, but rather the parts that include Huroro from my other fanfiction _Corporal,_ re-written from Huroro's point of view. (to those that don't know or haven't read my other fic yet, Huroro is Kululu's father)**

 **It's just something I felt like doing~**

 **Oh, and I sourced exactly what chapter and what section from Corporal that each part of this is from so tat if you want to you can read them side by side.**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Huroro P.O.V. Adaptation,** _ **Corporal**_ **Chapter 15, Section 2/2**

Huroro felt a pang of frustration. He had been searching for his _goddamn_ lighter for fifteen minutes now, and he still hadn't found it. He must have misplaced it, he decided. He didn't feel like looking for it anymore, but he needed a cigarette. He suddenly remembered that he had left a book of matches on the porch. He'd just use one of those.

Huroro went out his door and found the matches sitting on the windowsill. He removed a cigarette from his pocket and lit it before dropping the match and snuffing out the flame with his heel.

He took a drag from the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke, relishing the taste.

It was a nice day, he noticed. It wasn't too hot or too cold, and the sun was obscured by a thick blanket of clouds, which was good, he thought, because he hated when the fucking sun shone in his eyes like a cheerful little jackass.

He decided that he would sit on the porch for a while and smoke. He preferred to smoke outside, although of course he frequently smoked in the house as well.

Huroro retrieved a bottle of beer from the fridge in the house and returned to the porch.

He sat in a chair and crossed his legs, dragging on his cigarette. He felt himself relax and he closed his eyes and allowed his head to tilt forward a little. He found his mind wandering to the young girl who had been dancing up on his lap at the strip club the other night…

His train of thought was abruptly broken when he heard someone unlock the gate and start up the walkway. He opened his eyes and squinted through his glasses at the figure in confusion for a moment, and then he realized that he was looking at his son.

He stood up in astonishment, alarm, whatever you want to call it, and said, "Kululu?" Huroro was a little surprised to see how much older his son looked.

How many years had it been since he'd seen him? Ten years? Longer? God, how old was he? He was hit with a sudden influx of memories that hadn't crossed his mind in a long time: holding Kululu when he was a newborn and feeling a hopeless feeling of love and devotion to him, teaching him how to walk and write and struggling with Kululu's left-handedness. He remembered the first time he struck his son across his face and how awful he felt about it afterwards… and the slow feeling of water draining from a sink as Kululu got older and started being an asshole and more often than not Huroro found himself irritated with him… and the apathy he felt when he stopped being able to honestly tell himself that he loved his son…

All of these thoughts flashed across his mind in the period of a few milliseconds and then Kululu said, "What's shakin', bacon?"

"I thought you were on Pekopon," Huroro replied.

"No, I'm clearly on Keron, standing in front of you. Wow, Huroro, is your eyesight really that bad?" Kululu replied.

( _that snarky little bitch_ )  
"Calling your dad by his name, huh?"

"Oh, gosh, sorry, would you rather I call you father? Or daddy? How about stupid jackass? I think that suits you best."

( _what the fuck did I even say goddamn why is this kid such a dick?!_ )  
"Geez, cool it, _Major_ Kululu," Huroro retorted, remembering about his son's demotion. "Ah, imagine: my perfect, beautiful son, a major! Oh, wait...," he added mockingly. "You got demoted, didn't you?"

"Nice one," Kululu replied. "Yeah, I got demoted. I'm so fucking proud of you for coming up with that insult. You got me _so good_. Oh, how will I ever recover from that devastating blow...?"

Huroro smiled grimly at the blonde-haired punk who so resembled himself and said, "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

"No."

"Great," Huroro replied sarcastically. He took another drag of the cigarette. "So, what do you want?"

"So lovely of you to ask. I'd like to book a room in the finest establishment I can imagine."

Huroro raised his eyebrow.

"... I need to live here with you for a little while."

(? _? No ?_ )  
"Why the hell should I let you?" Huroro asked, a little dumbfounded. "Our first meeting in years and you're acting like the same hostile asshole that you were when you left."

"Come on."

Huroro considered just flat-out saying no. Why the hell would he want Kululu hanging around his house for who knows how long?

But, for some reason, he wasn't able to do it. "Yeah, okay. Do whatever you want, Kululu. Just stay out of my way." He picked up his bottle and started inside the house. Kululu followed and shut the door behind himself.

Huroro glanced over the cigarette butts and empty beer bottles that littered the floor. "Sorry about the mess," he said ( _why am I apologizing to this fucker?_ ) "I haven't really kept tidy since your mother died."

"Yeah, Huroro," Kululu replied, "I can see that."

Huroro felt like smacking him across the face. He settled with saying, "Enough of your cheek, Kululu. Seriously, I had enough of that when you were younger."

"You gonna handle it the same way as when I was younger, too? Huh? Really, what are you going to do? Planning on beating your nearly thirty-year-old son to teach him a nice lesson, Daddy?"

( _you read my mind, kiddo_ )  
"Screw you, Kululu," Huroro said. He was already starting to regret his decision to allow his son to stay. He grabbed a coat and snuffed his cigarette out in an ashtray. "I'm going out. You can sleep on the couch. Don't touch any of my stuff." He went out the door and started down the street without a backward glance at Kululu.


	2. Part 2

**Part two~~**

* * *

 **Huroro P.O.V. Adaptation,** _ **Corporal**_ **Chapter 16, Section 1/3**

Huroro stumbled into the house and dropped his keys. As he bent down and picked them up the room gave a dizzying tilt. "Ugh…," he groaned, glancing around the room, first at his son, curled up on the couch fast asleep, clutching his bag, and then up at the clock. He saw that it was nearly eight in the morning. Had he really been out all night long?

He shakily walked into his room and emptied his pockets out onto the nightstand – a package of cigarettes, a lighter, a couple of condoms, and a few cents in change – and then he bolted into the bathroom. He was able to make it in front of the sink before his body rejected the alcohol he had poisoned himself with the previous night. ( _occupational hazard_ )

He heard Kululu call, "Too much partying last night, Daddy?" The retching must have woken him up.

Huroro spit and wiped some bile off his chin before yelling back as loudly as he could, "Fuck you."

He finished vomiting and turned the faucet on, washing the puke that was mostly alcohol down the drain. Then, he stripped down and got in the shower, turning the water as cold as possible. He shivered under the freezing stream and rinsed his mouth out before washing his hair and getting out.

The cold water had made him more alert, and he definitely didn't feel as hungover as when he had first gotten home. Huroro dried his hair and got dressed and returned to his bedroom, heading for the cigarettes on the nightstand… but they weren't there.

Hadn't he put them there, though? He had removed them from his pocket along with the lighter, condoms, and change. He specifically remembered doing it. He didn't have any others right now, either. That was his last pack; he had meant to pick more up today.

He frowned and called out, "Kululu?"

There was no answer. Huroro walked out into the living room and saw that it was empty. He cursed his son and angrily got his coat from his room. He hadn't intended on leaving again for a while, but now that he had no cigarettes he was forced to. "That little bitch…," he muttered as he left the house again.

* * *

 ***singsong*  
~~Huroro is a gigantic cocksucker who's addicted to alcohol and nicotine~~**

 **Did I mention I've been picturing him as Kevin Bacon?**

 **Be sure to leave a review :)**


	3. Part 3

**Be sure to leave a review and PM me with any questions~**

* * *

 **Huroro P.O.V. Adaptation,** _ **Corporal**_ **Chapter 18, Section 1/1**

By the time Huroro got back from getting his cigarettes, it was twenty to ten. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door.

Kululu still wasn't back from wherever he had gone, but Huroro had expected that. He assumed that it would still be hours before his son returned.

So, he went about his day as he normally would, with his irritation at Kululu boiling in the back of his head. Despite the fact that he had bought more, Huroro still wanted the pack of cigarettes that Kululu had stolen and he had plans to cuss him out until it was returned.

The hours ticked by, and still Kululu wasn't back. Three o'clock, four o'clock, five o'clock… Where the hell was he?

Eight, nine, ten, eleven o'clock… At this point Huroro started to wonder if perhaps Kululu wasn't coming back. _Fine with me_ , he thought, _but now I won't get my cigarettes._

But Huroro still didn't go to bed. Why? Was he actually hoping that Kululu would come back so he could yell at him? Maybe.

Even if that was the case, however, he wouldn't stay up forever. Once the cost of staying up late started outweighing the benefit of properly punishing his son, he would go to bed. That's what Huroro had decided to do, anyway, but he secretly still wasn't sold on the idea. One a.m., two a.m., god, he isn't coming back, is he…?

Kululu opened the door and slumped into the house when the clock read **2:53 a.m.**

Huroro leapt up and immediately said, "It's almost three a.m., motherfucker. Where have you been?"

"Sorry, I forgot about my _curfew_. Nice of you to wait up for me, though." Kululu replied with his regular snarkiness, but Huroro noticed that he didn't seem as ( _happy?_ ) comfortable as he normally did. Had something happened? Ah, he didn't care.

"I had to, I can't lock up the house and go to bed until you get back," Huroro replied, making up the excuse on the spot.

"Uh-huh."

"I'm not going to do this again, Kululu," Huroro said. "Tomorrow night I'm locking the door at eight and if you aren't here then you can just stay outside."

"Whatever."

Huroro rolled his eyes. Why did his son have such a bad fucking attitude?

Kululu started to undress and Huroro stayed silent, trying to figure out how to ( _start a fight_ ) get his cigarettes back.

Suddenly, Kululu looked around at him and gave a little grin. "Like what you see, old man?"

Ugh. "Of course not," Huroro replied cruelly. "You're a skinny, pale little bitch and no one, much less me, would ever find you attractive."

"That's nice," Kululu replied. "Why are you watching me undress, then?"

Huroro pursed his lips. "I left a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on my table this morning. When I got out of the shower, they were gone."

"What a shame."

"Did you take them?"

"Yeah."

"Give them back, Kululu," Huroro ordered.

"I can't, sorry."

"Why?"

Kululu shrugged and said, "I smoked them."

Huroro took a step towards him and spat, "You did not, you little lying bitch! I can see that you don't smoke, there's no way you'd be able to stomach a full pack at once!"

"Nice going there, Papa," Kululu conceded, pulling Huroro's pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, "you saw right through the hole in my excuse." He tossed the package into the glass of booze that was sitting on the occasional table.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Huroro exclaimed incredulously.

"I just wanted to return your things, Huroro. I made a mistake in taking them this morning, so I should try to make up for it," Kululu said sweetly. Huroro felt another twinge of disgust when his son pulled him forward by the shirt collar and kissed him. Huroro sharply smacked him on the cheek, and Kululu snickered.

Huroro picked up the glass and fished his cigarettes and the lighter out. The cigarettes were ruined, obviously. He threw them aside. The lighter was fine, though. He got one of the cigarettes he had bought earlier and lit it.

"Aww, why did I have to give you the pack I took? You had others…"

Huroro dragged on his cigarette and exhaled, making sure the smoke blew right into his son's face. Then he said, "You're a fucking retard."

An awful look of hate and rage crossed Kululu's face as he instantly reacted to the word. He pulled his fist back and punched Huroro in the face.

Huroro was a caught a little off-guard, but he retaliated and uppercut his son. He heard Kululu's teeth clack together alarmingly. " _Get out of my fucking house!_ "

" _I'm not a retard!_ " Kululu screamed.

Huroro threw his glass at Kululu like a pitcher throwing a baseball. " _Yes, you are!_ " he yelled back.

" _I AM NOT A RETARD!_ " Kululu shrieked again, his voice rising even louder.

" _GO FUCK YOURSELF!_ " Huroro flung Kululu's bag at him.

" _Screw you, you drunk bastard!_ " Kululu put both his middle fingers up and rushed out the front door. All in all, Huroro saw, Kululu was there for less than ten minutes before he had been driven away again. Good. Huroro slammed the door shut.

* * *

 ** _Ah, family bonding time._**


	4. Part 4

**Laaaaast section~**

* * *

 **Huroro P.O.V. Adaptation,** _ **Corporal**_ **Chapter 21, Section 3/3**

Huroro was sharply awoken in the morning by a knock on the door. He begrudgingly got up and answered it. _This fucking better not be Kululu_ , he thought to himself.

It was. There was another man with him. He was larger than Kululu in stature, but not much taller. He wore a white shirt and dark red pants that were tucked into the kind of boots you're issued in the military. There was an ugly scar covering most of the left side of his face and he had large, dark eyes that seemed to be permanently angled into a serious expression. He looked familiar, but Huroro wasn't quite able to place his identity or summon a name.

So, he ignored him and turned to Kululu. "What the hell do you want?" he asked.

The other man answered. "Kululu doesn't want any trouble, we just-"

Huroro interrupted him and, looking right at Kululu, said, "What, you little bitch? You come back with a bodyguard?"

"He's not my bodyguard, he's my boyfriend," Kululu replied promptly.

( _I FUCKING KNEW YOU WERE GAY_ )  
"Okay, I see," Huroro said, "you're here to show off how much dick you're getting."

Kululu allowed a little smirk and the man next to him opened his mouth in surprise. "That's not - we're not - just -" he stuttered, his ears turning red.

Huroro grinned maliciously at him. His eyes flicked back to his son and he said in a low voice, "Oh, wait, I see. He's just like you. He's a re-"

Kululu cut him off. " _Don't fucking say it, asshole_ ," he hissed.

The other man cleared his throat and then stepped in between Huroro and Kululu. "Leave him alone, this wasn't even his idea," he said in a quiet but slightly dangerous-sounding voice. "I'm the one that wanted to come."

"Who even are you?" Huroro asked.

"My name is Giroro; Kululu and I were part of the platoon that was sent to Pekopon."

( _oh tha-at's right_ )  
"Why are you here?" Huroro asked.

"Because I'm… involved with your son, and I thought that we should meet."

( _Are they (getting married?) asking for my blessing?_ )  
"Good for you," Huroro replied. "Fuck off."

"Excuse me?" Giroro asked, but it was clear that he had heard Huroro correctly. He was challenging him, giving Huroro another chance to change what he said.

Huroro didn't back off. He said, "I'm not interested in talking to you. Honestly, I don't care who's plowing my son, so you can leave."

Giroro narrowed his eyes at Huroro. He briefly glanced in Kululu's direction, and carefully replied, "You don't have to be so vulgar, I just wanted to-"

Huroro couldn't take it anymore. He was so fucking sick of dealing with his son. He snapped his fingers in front of Giroro's face and then put two fingers over his mouth to cut his words off. Giroro roughly pushed his hand away and took a step back, looking offended.

The next thing Huroro knew, his son was holding onto the collar of his shirt and pulling his fist back to punch him. " _Don't fucking touch him you stupid slut you fucking prick you goddamn TWAT-_ "

Giroro grabbed onto Kululu's arm and pulled him back.

Huroro straightened his shirt collar and said, "I don't want to deal with you, Kululu, you aren't even worth getting into a fight over, so why don't you and your little whore-"

"He's not a whore, you old fuck!"

"Knock it off, Kululu!" Giroro snapped at him.

Kululu turned to his boyfriend and shrieked, " _I told you this was a bad idea!_ "

Giroro ignored him and stooped down, easily lifting Kululu in a fireman's carry. " _Dammit!_ " Kululu exclaimed.

Giroro raised his free hand and Huroro briefly wondered if he was going to be hit. Instead, Giroro pointed at him and said, "You're a failure of a person and a poor excuse for a father. I don't know what the _hell_ is the matter with you but you need to get your shit together. I'm sorry I ever tried to get to know you." Without waiting for a response from Huroro, he walked away.

Huroro made eye contact with his son hanging over Giroro's shoulder and put his middle finger up at him.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed it! It was just a little thing I wanted to do, nbd. Now that it's done I'm going to return to writing Corporal :)**


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